


To Survive, to Thrive

by neonsign



Category: Persona 3, Persona 4, Persona Q: Shadow of the Labyrinth
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-06-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 20:47:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,539
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7189589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonsign/pseuds/neonsign
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Minato?”</p><p>Out of the Labyrinth and back in the imitation of Yasogami, the two groups stood facing each other, and when their Velvet Room attendant had gestured to her guest, Souji knew.</p><p>“Do you remember me?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Survive, to Thrive

All through the fighting, Souji kept trying to sneak glances at the leader of the other group. Blue hair wasn’t uncommon – it stood out, but it was still something he saw a lot of when he lived in the city. Those uniforms, though, they were from Gekkoukan. Two things stopped it from being a coincidence. And he still looked exactly the same.

“Minato?”

Out of the Labyrinth and back in the imitation of Yasogami, the two groups stood facing each other, and when their Velvet Room attendant had gestured to her guest to introduce him, Souji knew. 

“Do you remember me?”

  

* * *

 

“Minato!”

“Dude…”

Minato flinched and jolted up, remembering his injury too late and pressed hand to his stomach, bracing for pain – but it never came. When he pulled his bloody shirt up there was nothing from being run through by the dancer’s sword, not even a scar.

“Yukari healed you, man, no worries,” Junpei explained. He was very clearly trying to sound cheerful, but his voice wavered. “Hey, uh, you’re…”

He reached out, but Minato jerked away. “Don’t–! Don’t touch me.”

Only when Junpei’s hand fell did he realize he was just pointing. Minato raised a shaking hand to his face. His cheek was wet with tears. He wiped them off with his sleeve, making sure to press hard enough that it hurt.

“What the hell were you thinking?” Yukari snapped. “Why did you run off like that?”

“She’s right,” Akihiko said, calmly but with an edge. “That was reckless.”

“There’s a limit to what I can heal, you _idiot_.”

“We’re supposed to be a team,” Junpei added.

Minato pressed a hand to his ear like there was something in there, playing noises ten years old, squeezed his eyes shut to block out scenes and people long dead. It didn’t work, so he tried to focus on the sound of Junpei’s voice rather than what he was saying as if it could drown out the past, and put his hand on the ground, then quickly pulled it away when it landed in something slick. A smear of blood. His own. He flexed his fingers and they glistened, dark in Tartarus’ low light. He focused on that instead. Anything in the present that would get his mind out of the past.

“You’re supposed to be our leader. That’s not the shit a leader pulls. Are you even listening?”

The world was swaying a little. Healing may have knit his wounds, but it didn’t bring back lost blood. While he tried to gather himself, his eyes fell on a trickle that ran down the wall, leaking from Tartarus itself. It had edged its way over and was beginning to swallow the puddle of his own. He pressed the back of his hand to his nose, trying to stop the smell of gasoline and fire.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said. “We won.”

“Don’t be stupid.”

“I thought you’d get over this goddamn lone wolf act,” Yukari bit. “When are you gonna grow up?”

Minato glared at the floor. Before any of them could say anything else, Fuuka’s soft, nervous voice sounded, calling them back to the entrance at Mitsuru’s request.

Junpei sighed and pushed his hat back to scratch at his head, forcing a laugh. “Oh man… that sounds like bad news. Let’s go get this over with.”

Minato didn’t move. His teammates exchanged glances.

“C’mon, we’re all exhausted,” Akihiko said, “and you lost a lot of blood.”

He offered a hand, which Minato ignored in favour of pushing himself to his feet with his sword. As soon as they held his full weight, his legs felt like twigs about to snap. As if his muscles were filled with concrete, weighing him down and making every move an exhausting effort.

“We can’t go,” he croaked. He cleared his throat and spoke more clearly. “We can’t go. There’s still someone in here.”

“Not that I’m crazy about the idea,” Yukari said, “but they’ll be fine until the next full moon, right? Let’s come back when we’re more –”

“I’m not coming back unless we have to. Split up and look for them.”

Without a backward glance at his teammates Minato set off, dragging the tip of his sword on the ground behind him. They were just as exhausted as he was and he knew that, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He was pissed off, wound tight, and he needed something to vent it all on. Too bad they were all he had. Somewhere in the back of his head, there was some twisted sense of satisfaction. This was what they got for making him leader.

Around the next corner, he found what they were looking for: curled up against the wall of a dead end was a guy his age, arms over his head like he was protecting himself from something. Minato walked over to him and nudged him with his toe. The guy flinched like he was about to be hit, but when nothing clobbered him in the head, he slowly lowered his arms and looked up.

“Let’s go,” Minato said simply. He expected protest and demands for answers but the boy silently and obediently got to his feet. He followed Minato down a hallway, sticking close and glancing around. “Fuuka, I got him. Tell the others to meet me at the access point.”

The trek there was uneventful aside from one Shadow, easily destroyed with one hit from Orpheus. There was no reaction out of the guy following him, not even when he pulled out a gun, placed it against his temple, and pulled the trigger. He just watched the phenomenon with glossy, doll-like eyes. Minato had been expecting at least a little panic.

“Are you finally ready to go?” Junpei was waiting with the others at the access point, looking pissed off. Minato nodded and he rolled his eyes. “Great.”

No one spoke until they got down to the ground floor, and then it was all Mitsuru drilling the importance of what they were doing into his head and how she expected more out of him. The position of Leader was at stake, as if he cared about it at all. Minato nodded when he needed to, bowed his head and apologized, and it was over soon enough. All the while, the guy he’d rescued stood idly by, watching everything and missing nothing.

When the group left Tartarus, Akihiko gestured to him.

“I’ll take him to the station. You guys get back to the dorm and get to bed.”

“No.”

Without waiting for them to argue, Minato grabbed the victim by the wrist and started pulling him down the road, leaving everyone else at the school gates. Only Fuuka called after him, so he had to wonder if they were glad to see him gone. After the shit he kept pulling, he would be too.

The Dark Hour didn’t end until they were around the corner, bringing with it a rush of late night city noise and a warm gust of summer air. Minato let go of the guy’s arm and let out a slow breath.

“What’s going on?”

The guy was staring at him, more lucid than he had been inside Tartarus, but he still didn’t look particularly bothered or confused or really anything at all. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Minato told him.

“Where are you taking me?”

“Police station. You’ve been reported missing; they’ll take you home.”

“What?” He stopped walking, bringing Minato to a halt as well. “How long have I been - there?”

“Couple days.”

“A couple -?” The guy shook his head, eyes growing wide. “How am I supposed to explain that to my parents?”

“What? I don’t know. Say it was Apathy Syndrome or something. I mean…”

The whole picture was still kind of elusive, but he thought he might’ve been able to piece together what he could see, and what he could see was that there must’ve been some relation between that and someone showing up in Tartarus. If Minato’s shell of a theory was right, this guy had to be on the path to coming down with the Syndrome.

“Apathy…? I’m not – my parents would –”

The guy’s breathing was starting to speed up, growing shallower, and he swore under his breath. That was the panic Minato had been looking for.

A couple days in Tartarus – even if it had only been hours to him – hadn’t done the guy any favours. He was rough, pale and tired. Other than that, he looked pretty put together. His clothes were high quality, clean and simple; a white button-up done all the way up to the collar and pants, not that different from a school uniform. Standard haircut, standard everything. If his life was half as boring as he looked, it was no wonder he’d ended up there.

Minato’s roving eyes found his. The two stared at each other.

The guy bolted.

Minato blinked, too surprised by the turn of events to react, then chased after him.

The Dark Hour was over and his body was probably working on replacing lost blood, but the fatigue remained. In no time his muscles were burning and his heart felt close to exploding. The guy almost lost him when he cut a sharp corner into a dark alleyway, but Minato was able to keep tabs on him thanks to the echo of his shoes slapping the concrete. Getting lost in Tartarus hadn’t done anything for the other guy’s endurance either. To the sound of wheezing coughs, his pace began to slow and Minato was able to reach out, grab a fistful of his shirt, and wrench it back.

Unbalanced, the guy tipped backwards and brought Minato to the ground with him, scraping skin against concrete, bending Minato’s leg under himself, and driving an elbow into his stomach. The two lay there, ragged breaths rasping from their dry throats.

“Move your fucking _elbow_ ,” Minato groaned, shoving his shoulder until he sat up. “What the hell did you run for?”

The only answer he got was a phlegmy cough. Minato wanted to be pissed but now he was too tired for even that. He shook his head and closed his eyes, not bothering to sit up. He was already covered in sweat and blood; lying on the ground wasn’t going to hurt him at that point.

“Sorry,” the guy croaked. “I… sorry.”

“Let’s just go, please, so I can go home and sleep.”

“W-wait…” Still breathing hard, the guy managed to get out, “You have to tell me everything.”

“No.”

“Then – then I’m not moving.”

The most satisfying thing to do would’ve been to just leave. Get up and go, let this guy deal with the mess he’d created on his own. But if word got back to Akihiko through Kurosawa, then Mitsuru, that he just left the victim on the street - that was something Minato did not feel like dealing with. He’d already screwed up enough for one night.

“Your name is Minato, right? That’s what that girl called you.”

Minato nearly rolled his eyes. This guy was going to try the friendly tactic, now.

“I’m Souji Seta.”

“Okay. Great. Let’s go to the station, Seta. Bet your parents are real worried.”

“I – tell me everything and I’ll consider it.”

Minato cast an arm over his eyes. Lying on concrete wasn’t comfortable, but if it hadn’t been for a stone digging into his kidney, he probably would’ve been able to fall asleep right there.

“You’re pretty bratty for a high schooler.”

“I’m in middle school.”

Minato peeked out from under his arm. Souji was taller than him – just barely. That, added onto his composed air and mature face, had him thinking he was his age or older. Somehow, that was really irritating.

“All the more reason for you to get home. Kids like you should be in bed.”

“What about you? Are your parents okay with you fighting monsters?”

More out of weariness than any kind of emotional response, Minato sighed and lowered his arm, finally sitting up. Purely to make Souji uncomfortable, he caught his eye and glared. He couldn’t tell if he understood, but Souji fidgeted and looked away.

“I can’t ignore what I saw,” he mumbled.

“Try.”

“Would you be able to?”

The fact that he couldn’t was exactly the reason he was dealing with this shit.

Minato looked at his hand, the heel scraped raw from sliding along the asphalt. To stall while he thought of a way to wiggle out of an explanation, he scooted over to the side of the alley and sat against the brick wall. Souji took heart in the gesture and turned to face him properly, crossing his legs and watching attentively.

“It doesn’t matter,” Minato said. “If you can’t summon a Persona, then it doesn’t matter either way.”

“How can I check?”

“You’d know.”

Minato watched closely for any kind of reaction, but there was nothing showing on Souji’s face. It was closed-off expression to rival his own. He didn’t look the type to share Junpei’s and Akihiko’s eagerness to fight, but the fact he was putting up a fight about this shouldn’t have been as surprising as it was. This was just some classic pent-up nerd rage. Souji was nothing but a dumb kid swept away by the excitement of it all, wanting to fight because he thought it was cool.

A small frown creased Souji’s brow. He shook his head once. “I’m sorry for being troublesome. I shouldn’t have run.”

“It’s fine.” With a groan, Minato got to his feet. “You ready to go yet?”

Souji stared at the ground, hands balled into fists against his thighs. “You haven’t told me anything.”

Minato clicked his tongue. “There’s nothing to say. None of this matters to someone who can’t change it. Just go home, Seta. Go to school, do normal kid shit.”

In one swift movement, Souji got to his feet. Minato tensed, thinking he was going to start swinging or something, but quickly found himself relaxing. Everything pointed to Souji being intimidating – his height, his composure – but there was a meek air about him. Even with the way he stood with perfect posture, there was no pride in it. Something in the way he carried himself said he was used to making himself small.

Minato shifted his weight from leg to leg, kneading his palm.

“Look,” he said, “whatever you’re making this out to be in your head, the reality is that it sucks. You’re lucky you don’t have a say in the matter.”

“I don’t understand everything, but it seems like you’re saving lives. You saved mine.”

“That – uh…”

Minato blinked, taken aback though he didn’t know why. The others drilled the concept of their heroics into his head nearly every day, but he’d never heard it worded quite like that. This was the first and hopefully only time anyone had ever wandered into Tartarus; it seemed a lot more immediate and personal than just saving the world or fighting for mankind.

“That doesn’t change facts.”

“It must be nice to do something so important.”

Minato stared at him – his nice clothes, his simple haircut – and then down at himself. Grimy, sweaty, and covered in blood; a sight interrupted by the overgrown hair always hanging in his eyes. Souji’s gentle speech and his own, harsh and blunt.

“You seem like a smart kid,” Minato said. “You’ll end up doing something important in your own way.”

Souji stood with a hand on his hip, looking off towards the alley entrance and speaking vaguely, thoughtfully. “Do you think so?”

Minato shrugged and crossed his arms. “That’s how it works, right? Go to school, get good grades, make a nice life for yourself. If you’re that concerned about doing something worthwhile, be a doctor or something.”

“And then what?”

A long silence stretched between them as Minato stared at him, looking away when Souji looked back.

“Is that it?”

The more he spoke, the more the edges were wearing smooth, letting the pieces slide into place much easier. 

With the world being as it was, it was too easy to fall into that kind of rhythm. School, work, death. There weren’t really any other options. You took solace in a couple vacations here and there, provided you could afford them. If not, you were supposed to find it in the little things – loved ones, maybe. Provided you had them.

That was all that was – or wasn’t – waiting for Minato once all this was over. SEES would go their separate ways and everything that ever happened between them would become nothing more than memories. No matter what happened during the Dark Hour, Minato would blend back into being one of many. Wild Card powers didn’t account for much when you had no friends or family, sitting in some dead-end job.

“Sorry,” Souji said, lowering his head and scratching his nose. It was his first time showing shyness. “That was a weird thing to… s-sorry.”

Minato took a deep breath and put his hands in his pockets. A loud group of drunks passed by, walking down the street as their loud voices echoed down the alley to where he and Souji stood, an uncomfortable distance between them. The alley was quiet, all dark blue shadows; the street was loud and coloured in warm yellows, all light from the lampposts, neon signs, and the occasional car. Like they were different worlds, almost. Divided by only a thin line.

“I get where you’re coming from,” Minato said softly, more softly than he could remember being, “but when the fighting ends, you’ll end up right back to where you started. Purpose is a temporary fix; if you’re lucky, you do what you set out too. Then where do you go from there? Like I said, it’s a pain in the ass.”

“But…”

“Look…” With a heavy sigh, Minato kneading the heel of his palm over his forehead. “If – if you want, um… it might be kind of weird because I’m older than you, but if you wanna… maybe hang out sometime, I guess… I know things can get kinda shitty, so if you need someone to talk to, that’s all I can offer.”

Souji looked at him.

“Nevermind,” Minato muttered. “Sorry. That’s pretty weird.”

“I’m moving.”

“What?”

“I’m moving in a couple days,” Souji repeated, staring at the ground. “I move a lot.”

“Oh…”

The two stood in another awkward silence. For a moment, Minato toyed with the idea of asking for his contact information regardless - they could still talk even after he moved - but the idea died quickly. It was pointless and he knew that as well as anybody.

Minato didn’t say anything. Neither did Souji.

After a long while, Souji took a step toward the street, pausing to look over his shoulder. Minato took the hint, following along and wondering why it wasn’t more of a relief that he was finally giving up.

Seeing as how he was still wearing a bloodied shirt, they stuck to the side streets and cut through a couple more alleys until they reached the nearest monorail station. The only other occupant when the train came was a middle-aged woman who seemed perfectly happy to ignore Minato’s state.

He kept trying to sneak glances at Souji. Gradually, ever since the shock of their situation had sunk in, he had become more and more quiet and composed. During the entire train ride, he sat with his back straight and shoulders back, hands folded neatly in his lap. Not once did he look at Minato – unless he was doing it through the window opposite them. At the thought, Minato looked at their reflection.

Even sitting, Souji was taller than him. Under the stark fluorescent lighting, the contrast between them was even more obvious. Souji, clean and collected, if not a little worn; Minato, grimy and looking like death warmed over.

“If you’re moving,” Minato said slowly, watching Souji’s reflection rub a knuckle into its eyes, “why bother asking to fight?”

The reflection lowered its head and Souji adopted that thoughtful voice again. “I wonder. Maybe I was imagining running away. Again.”

Minato scoffed, looking down at his lap. “Sorry. I know what it’s like.”

“Mm.”

They managed to make it to the station without getting stopped for Minato’s suspicious appearance, though Kurosawa kept glancing at him all while he filled out the paperwork. Souji stood by him, waiting silently. When Kurosawa laid down his pen and told Minato he would give him a ride home, the two boys looked at each other a little awkwardly.

“Uh…”

“Goodbye,” Souji said plainly.

“Yeah. Um…” Minato shook his head, casting around for the words he was supposed to say. “Take care of yourself, Seta.”

He could’ve kicked himself, but then Souji smiled for the first time – just a little – and it was okay. Minato was smiling, too.

 

* * *

 

 “Of course I remember,” Minato said. “It’s only been a couple months.”

“Wait, what? No, it –”

“But you look… older.”

“Because it’s been two years.” Souji was only vaguely aware of the two groups’ confused looks and chatter. Despite his own confusion, a smile slowly spread across his face. “But I’m glad to see you again.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i can't remember nothin about when people start showing up in tartarus and how much sees would know about it so early in the year but hopefully this makes at least a little sense ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯


End file.
